


Some Real-Time Stanislavski

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [123]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Director!Tony, Dirty Talk, Discussion of Stuckony, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: “Stop!” Stark bellowed, rising up out of the darkened theater like some bearded, wide-eyed beast. “Just stop right the fuck now.Christ.”





	Some Real-Time Stanislavski

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Actor/Director. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).
> 
> FYI: Rating is for dirty talk.

“Stop!” Stark bellowed, rising up out of the darkened theater like some bearded, wide-eyed beast. “Just stop right the fuck now. _Christ_.”

Bucky clenched his teeth and felt the moment leech away from him, the cloud of his character’s bliss blown apart by the approach of their director and his mad, flapping rush to the edge of the stage.

He did not, for the record, let go of his co-star, Steve Rogers, Mr. Top of the Marquee, Mr. Golden Boy on whose name alone they’d already sold out the first month of the run. And they weren’t even in previews yet.

Better yet: Steve didn’t let go of him.

“Is he always like this?” Steve murmured in his ear, his hands settling firm over Bucky’s hips. “Or did someone in particular piss in his Cheerios this morning?”

Bucky snorted. “A little bit of both, I think.”

“You!” Tony barked, bounding up the stairs from stage right.“You two. Stop talking. What the hell did I just say? Stop!”

“We’re not doing anything--” Steve started, but Tony barged right through.

“Oh, I know you’re not, believe me. It’s apparent from twenty rows back, much less from two!”

In the wings, Bucky saw the rest of the cast stirring: Sam was laughing, Nat looked annoyed, and the pretentious git who made everyone refer to him as “Loki” looked especially murderous; his big scene was next, after all, and at this rate, they’d never get to it before it was time to call it a day.

Tony, the love of Bucky’s life/perpetual bane of his existence had stopped he and Steve now eight times. Eight. Start, stop; start, stop; _start_ , and every time they got close to a rhythm, moved up and through that first kiss, Stark would slam something on the floor or holler and bring the whole thing to a halt.

 _It was your call to cast him_ , Bucky wanted to say, had said a half-dozen times. _Don’t get pissed at me because he’s pretty._

It wasn’t that Tony had actually ever said the word _jealous_ , that he’d done anything that screamed _get your hands off my man_. No, of course not. Tony Stark was a professional first, never more so than when he and Buck worked together; Broadway’s power couple or not, when they were on the job, the work came first, always. But Bucky knew Tony well enough to see that he was unsettled, that there was something green clawing at the inside of his eyes, and the longer things had gone without Tony bringing it up, the more Bucky was inclined to play it up, to lean into the little zing, the living current, that ran between he and Steve on stage. He could feel it, the whole cast could, and it would do wonders for the show--a new work with old themes that came off kinda cheesy at times, at least in Bucky’s mind. But hell, if it meant he was getting paid to make out with Steve Rogers and make his boyfriend a little antsy in the process, well. So be it.

“Look,” Tony said, coming to rest beside them, his hands bent in melodramatic prayer, “please, boys, I’m begging you: can we get through this kiss once, one fucking time, without the two of you screwing it up? One time. That’s all I’m asking.”

Bucky felt Steve stiffen, heard his sharp intake of breath. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t curse at me, Stark.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you could act a little bit here, Rogers. Just a smidge.”

“I’m doing my best, but you’re not giving me much to work with. We’re not doing anything differently than we were last week.”

Oh hell, Bucky thought. For fuck’s fucking sake. “Could we clear the stage?”

Everybody flat-out ignored him. Sam gave him the finger.

“Last week,” Tony said, acid, “we were in a rehearsal room. Small, cozy, what have you. Now we’re in a 300-seat theater and I’m telling you that what you’re doing here, you and Buck, it ain’t working.”

“Uh oh,” Loki snarked. “Hope they haven’t printed the programs yet.”

“Hey,” Bucky said louder, giving Tony a _goddamnit_ glare. “Could we clear the fucking stage, please?”

Tony made a face at him, at them, and turned to look over his shoulder. “Get the hell off my stage, people. Now! Be back in fifteen.”

There was a grumble, a shuffle, and the brightest lights overhead fell to dim. Tony’s eyes didn’t waver until the last set of feet disappeared and the theater at last fell silent.

“You wanna explain yourself, Barnes?”

“No,” Bucky shot back. “I want you to explain why you’re being such a prick.”

“Oh, that’s mature.”

Bucky threw up his hands. “Damn it, Tony! If you want us to do it differently, then tell us what it is that you want. You’re being vague as hell and it’s not serving anybody.”

“I want you to do it right! Is that really so complicated? I know this is novel, but I’d like you two to do what the fucking script says.”

“ _Gene and Al kiss_ ,” Steve recited. “ _A kiss that’s the beginning of something. A kiss that marks an end_.”

“Yes!” Tony said. “Do that!”

“Is that the best direction you can give?” Bucky snapped, the frustration of the last two hours boiling over in one angry rush. “Jesus christ, Tony. What the fuck is wrong with you? You forget to take your meds?"

Tony’s cheeks went purple. “Fuck you, babe.”

“Don’t do this,” Steve said.

“Have you got a better explanation?" Buck said. He glared at Tony. "Why the hell are you so determined to waste everyone’s time tonight, huh?”

“ _Don’t do this_ ,” Steve said again, louder, strange, and it took Bucky a moment to realize that Steve wasn’t speaking for himself. No, the man was back in goddamn character: that wasn't Steve talking--it was Gene.

Steve’s hands opened and spread up and across Bucky’s back, just like Tony had told them to the first time they’d put this scene on its feet, like they’d rehearsed time and time again.

“You don’t have to do this,” Steve said to Bucky, Gene said to Al. “I know it feels like you do, but--”

Bucky looked into Steve’s eyes, surprise, lost himself in that mellow blue, and just like that he was Al, safe at last in the arms of a man he’d loved his whole life.

“Here we are,” Bucky said, Al, “on the brink of something beautiful and all you can think to do is protect me, huh?” He reached up and stroked the back of Steve’s neck, curled in closer. “Is that it? You gotta save me from myself?”

Steve made a low noise in his throat, a hot sort of rattle, and all at once Bucky could feel how close Tony was to them, how silently he’d slid into their space. “If I need to,” Steve said softly. “Yes.”

Bucky nuzzled Steve’s cheek and Steve’s nails caught his back, startled, as if he--as if Gene--hadn’t known how good that would feel, so simple a touch, the rush of it, the flush, and then like they had eight times in the last hour, Gene and Al stumbled into it, stuttered, the hot stitled heat of their first kiss: two friends from childhood stepping at last from one side of their lives to the other.

“Get your hands in his hair, Steve,” Tony said, the words like embers between them. “Hold on to him for dear fucking life, like your whole world’s just flooded and you need him to stay afloat.”

“You can’t take this back,” Steve said, Gene did. Desperate now, his fingers curling up and over Bucky’s skull, losing themselves in Bucky’s hair. “Ever, baby. You can’t.”

Bucky felt Tony’s hand curl warm and firm at the small of his back, heard the rough draw of his breath as Steve kissed him again, fierce and sweet.

“Good,” Tony murmured. “Yes. Just like that.”

Oh, god, Bucky thought, caught between Tony’s grip and Steve’s, the game was up; any semblance of pretense fucking shot, and he wondered how long it would take Steve to figure that out, that they’d slipped beyond the damn scene into something deeper, something more. Is this what Tony had been afraid of? Or was this what he’d been pushing for?

Bucky clawed at Steve’s hips and found the curve of his ass, just like he was supposed to, but this time Steve made a small, shocked sound and pressed back into the touch, urging Bucky to grab on, to squeeze, to grab hold.

Tony’s breath was a hurricane against Bucky’s cheek. “Harder, Buck. He wants to feel it.”

Their mouths met again, Al and Gene’s did, and there was a fire in Bucky’s gut, a chimney of shimmering heat stoked by Steve’s tongue, by the curl of Tony’s smoky voice:

“Do you know what it’s been like for me, watching you all these last few weeks? You look like you were meant to be together, like some mad genius cut you out as two parts of a whole. And after tonight--jesus, I almost want to fire you both just so I don’t have to share this with anybody: the way you look together, the way you touch each other. So I can keep you all to myself.”

Steve shuddered and Bucky did, too; held on that much tighter. “Fuck,” Steve said, soft and aching. “Oh, god. Oh fuck.”

Bucky’s cock jerked and oh hell, he was hard; harder still when he realized that Steve was, too, that it was Steve moving against him, not Gene; Steve’s hands slipping under his t-shirt to pet at the stretch of his ribs, to stroke the soft skin between. Then Tony was touching him, too, rubbing gentle at the small of his back, bare, and it undid something in Bucky, the two of them touching him at the same time, their fingers moving over the same space at different speeds; together, but not in time. He felt fragile. He felt like steel. He felt like he was melting away.

“I want to watch you fuck him,” Tony said to Steve in that same gentle, unyielding tone. “I want to suck his cock while you do. And then, if you’ve been really good, I’m going to come all over you both.”

They both groaned, a sound that got caught up in the rafters, their tongues moving eager and quick.

“Like the sound of that, huh?” Tony murmured. “Yeah, me too.”

And then the bastard, the complete and utter bastard that he was, Tony stepped _back_ , took his hands away, moved out of their little circle of sex.

“So: do the damned scene correctly,” Tony said, sounding like Tony again, “and then we’ll all go home and you two can get your reward. How’s that sound?”

The kiss snapped in half and they stared at him, stunned.

“What the fuck,” Bucky said. “Tony, you can’t expect us to act! Not after all that! Not with...”

“A reason-splintering boner?” Steve supplied.

Bucky nodded vigorously. “Yes! That.”

Tony grinned. “I don’t know, babe. I think it might help. Desperation, need, and all that. Gives you something to work with--some real-time Stanislavski shit."

“You,” Bucky said as Steve laughed, two steps short of a howl, “you _bastard_!”

“Oh, no question.” Tony held up his hand, put the other over his heart. “But I’m a bastard who keeps his promises. Now, I hear the mad horde approaching, so fellas: make this one count.”

He darted away, a crazed dash in the opposite direction, and disappeared back into the shadows of seats as Sam, Loki, and Nat clattered back to their positions stage left, filling the air with the smell of tobacco and cloves.

“You guys just hug it out this whole time?” Sam hooted. “Not promising, boys. Not promising.”

“I’m leaving at 11,” Nat called towards the darkness. “Stark, I’m not staying late because these two can’t get their shit straight.”

“Oh please,” Loki sniffed, folding himself on the floor in a neat, recalcitrant heap. “Stop pretending you have a life. No one’s buying it.”

“Your boyfriend is a sadist,” Steve said quietly, a grin smeared over his flushed, handsome face. “A genius, maybe, but mostly a sadist.”

“Yeah, but he’s a man of his word.” Bucky met Steve’s eye, willed himself not to blush. “If, ah, you’re up for him honoring it.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder. “Hell yes. As long as you are, too.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, turning over a smile, “you’d better believe it."

“All right!” Tony shouted from the back row. “If everybody’s done fucking around, let’s take this shit from the top.”


End file.
